8 Being The Magic Number
by PavarottisRevenge
Summary: Dean x Female!Reader — Fun times in the back of baby.


Frantic puffs of damp air tickles across your face as the cocky man on top of you hoists your hips even higher for a deeper thrust.

His forearms flexing and unflexing around your head as he holds your thighs up towards your quicking chest, the little grunts and growls egging you on further and further to the edge. The strained veins in his arms bulging at the exertion, yulping for some give.

With each pull and tug, his strength preventing you from slipping even just an inch, you remain his captive for the moment and to be honest you wouldn't have it anyother way — no matter what you may or may not might proclaim out loud…

"Dean," you whine, the sound echoing throughout the tight squeeze of the backseat. The desperate pleads and begs you chant bouncing off the metal frame and sweat soaked leather of baby like a holy prayer in the night. "Dean, please."

Another plunge of his hips causes you to twitch and bellow like a wild animal, the broadness of his cock massaging your depths in the most delicious of ways — ridging against your tight walls like it was his life's mission — never once halting the assault.

"Fuck," Dean groans while forcefully grinding his hips deep, your overflowing slick downing his balls and thighs as it coats him in nothing but purely you. "You like that, Y/N? You going to cum for me again, sweetheart?"

His pulses and rotations cause you to lose the ability to even think straight. Seven times so far, the man has made you cum seven times in a matter of minutes and right now he's hellbent on making you go again.

 _What was he? Part horse?! The stamina on this guy, my god.._

Crying out as your nails dig and scrape raised marks across his sun kissed upper back, you plead one more time. "Please, Dean. I can't, it's too much."

Dropping his head foreword, Dean strikes your swollen lips with his own, taking no time to pry them back open and suck your tongue into his mouth — moaning and groaning at the taste and feel of you squirm below.

Picking up top speed now, attempting to finally chase his own release, Dean slaps his hips hard enough against your own that it causes the shocks on the car to stretch and scream in pure agony.

Pulling his head back from you and looking deep into your eyes, Dean barks out an order that you damn well better follow. "One more, Y/n/n. One more and then I'll give you what you want. Just one more."

"Dean!" You scream as your back arches and your head bows back, his thunderous pace breaking you away bit by bit, your body no longer yours but delightfully his.

Pounding into you with breakneck speed, Dean drops a thigh and rushes a hand down to your core, flicking your clit like it was a winning scratch off ticket. "Let it go, babe. Let it go for me."

Clawing and tearing at the seat beneath your conjoined bodies, you scream bloody murder as that final combo lights your veins and nerves on fire. That rush of ecstasy travels from your head to the tip of your toes like a bolt of lightning zapping a tree.

You tremble. You scream. Your eyes lose focus and your limbs grow numb.

All you feel and hear is Dean screaming your name as he shoots rope after rope into your sporadic core, his hips skipping like a bad starter.

After one more deep grind Dean pulls out of you and flops down like a ragdoll, not really caring about his weight at the moment. "Told you eight was my magic number."

Too tired to move or even breath, you just look up to the roof of the impala and question whomever is listening. "Am I dead? I can't even feel my own ass right now; am I dead?"

Letting out a deep belly laugh at the remark you just made, Dean carefully moves up and over so he is now hovering over you and allowing your body to stretch out and breathe. "Mmm, death by orgasms… Not a bad way to go if i'm being honest here, babydoll."

Shifting your eyes over to his soothing green ones, you spread out a warm smile at the man you've got to call yours for a few months now. "I love you, Dean."

Wiggling his eyebrows like the goober he truly is, Dean leans down to plant a gentle peck. "Damn right you do."

Before you could reply back with a rebuttal at his lack of response, Dean surprises you as he reaches his hand over to softly caress your jaw and lips. "I love you, too."


End file.
